


Tension

by gaylore



Series: This Something [4]
Category: Naruto
Genre: As I said I don't know, Bondage, Dirty Talk, I really have no idea how to tag this but I'll do my best, I would call it light bondage but Naruto seems to be taking it to a new level, Kind of?? Maybe it overlaps with the teasing, M/M, Neck Kissing, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rough Kissing, Tags to potentially be added I guess, Teasing, There's probably some more stuff but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 03:15:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11728350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaylore/pseuds/gaylore
Summary: Gaara and Naruto have been exchanging several. . . *questionable* emails lately. When there's finally an Alliance meeting in Suna, Gaara jumps at the chance to realize some of them. It does not go as he had planned.Mostly smut? But there's some underlying angst, too, I promise.





	Tension

Naruto is only human, and Gaara is determined to use that against him.

He has taken to keeping a list. Every character, every typo, every _emoticon_ suggests a weakness to be exploited at a later date. The items are arranged by projected result, from grazing hit to knockout punch, nervously-blushing-and-chuckling at the top to begging-on-his-knees at the bottom.

The system isn’t ideal when it comes to planning. Actually, the hierarchy is mostly for Naruto’s benefit. Lists have a certain eroticism, an inherent anticipation and apprehension best maximized by gradual buildup. When he sees it—and Gaara has promised that he will—half the battle will be won just by making him _imagine_ the final few things Gaara has planned.

That’s the theory.

It’s difficult to apply the theory when Naruto has provided next to nothing to work with.

Gaara had _just_ started to keep the insomnia at bay when the impending encounter forced him to stay up all night, scouring emails for suggestions. He regrets it now, because there wasn’t even a payoff: two items, _maybe_ , when the _first draft_ of Naruto’s had at least a dozen. And who knows how many additions have been made since then? No matter how much he persists, Naruto refuses to send the revised copy, which definitely exists. It must exist, because Gaara is still no natural, and even the screen won’t let him hide everything.

He is getting better at it, though. It’s easier for Gaara to maintain confidence when there’s no chance of _him_ reaching out and stopping the conversation in its tracks with something as casual as a trace of a tattoo.

That won’t happen this time. He’s had the opportunity to practice, rehearse, prepare—whatever you’d like to call it as long as it means Naruto won’t win.

Naruto won’t win.

Gaara concentrates on the thought, the _fact_ , as the computer shuts down.

Before he stands from the desk, he rubs at the bags under his eyes. Thankfully, on his face, sleep deprivation shows up about as noticeably as blood on red sheets.

That reminds him. He’s been doing his research. The color red is sensual, stimulating, isn’t it?

At least Gaara has one advantage going in.

***

In the meeting, they do not speak. Gaara tries to push the reason out of his mind, but that’s hard to do when Shikamaru and Temari won’t stop watching.

The blazingly obvious scrutiny limits contact to quick nods and brief exchanges, all professional and diplomatic as can be. No one expects Gaara to smile, so the effort to stop himself from shaking is the most control he must exert over what apprehension still builds up.

They’re not stupid, are they? Everything will be private. They’ve learned their lesson.

As the formalities begin anew, Gaara only prays that Naruto has a good excuse prepared.

***

He is not disappointed. He has only been kept waiting back in his bedroom for five minutes when Naruto arrives, rapping at the door just seconds before letting himself in.

“You got away with no problems?” Gaara doesn’t bother turning around. He is confident that his voice will carry to the doorway.

“Yeah. Shikamaru thinks I’m finding out if Suna’s ramen is better than Ichiraku.”

“He’s definitely not that stupid.”

“Oh, no, not at all. But your sister’s definitely that pretty.”

“I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with this tradeoff.”

“Let them have their fun and they won’t bother us while we’re having ours. It’s actually a really _nice_ tradeoff.”

He is taking off his shoes. Gaara can hear them slap the floor as he tosses them aside.

“If you damage my tatami, Kankuro won’t be happy. If you scuff your sandals, Shikamaru won’t be happy. No one will be happy if you do this carelessly.”

“I only have so much careful in me! I’m rationing it for what’s important, ya know?”

“And that would be?”

“You, in there, on that bed.”

“If you think I’m already—”

“I know you’re not naked. I’m counting on that.”

Gaara is suddenly glad to be facing the wall. It is much safer than Naruto’s face, wearing the diabolical grin he can actually _hear_. More than that, the wall will not judge him as he blushes.

He clears his throat to save face. “Please elaborate.”

“It’s getting harder to screw with you. I’m impressed.”

Bare feet close the distance. Gaara does his best to force a neutral expression onto his face before Naruto’s is right in front of him, crouching down to reach eye level.

“But I think you made some promises you can’t keep, Kazekage.”

Gaara crosses his arms. He realizes now that he should had them like that to start with—confidence and defiance all at once.

“I made several promises. You’ll have to specify.”

“ _Specifically_ , all that talk about you being in charge.”

“I have every intention of keeping all of those.”

“I’m sure you do. That’s why I want to make a deal.”

“The first rule of being in charge is that you don’t let the one you’re in charge of make deals.”

“The overarching deal of this whole thing is that you listen to my deal or I walk out the door.”

“‘Deal’ is going to stop being a word by the time we’re done with it.”

“You’re not going to know how to use words by the time I’m done with you.”

Gaara falls down. Flat on his back on his own bed.

As he scrambles to push himself back up into a seated position, passionately cussing Naruto throughout his struggle with the bouncy mattress, the conquering hero stands to his full height, not even bothering to hide the smugness.

“So, now that I’ve got your attention.”

Gaara offers a few more choice words to make it clear what else he’s got.

“The deal is that you’re going to get up and grab your headband.”

The basic sentiment of Gaara’s reply is that the deal Naruto has proposed is an unfair one.

“Relax. I’m not done. You get to keep it.”

Gaara quiets down. Not only has his slim vocabulary of vulgarities been exhausted, but Naruto really does have his attention.

“At least, you get to try.”

Attention is replaced by suspicion.

“Whoever has it five minutes from now gets to use it.”

Gaara isn’t stupid, either. “So your ‘deal’ is a fetishistic game.”

“It takes all the fun out of it if you call it something.”

“We ought to know.”

It takes Naruto a moment to address Gaara again—or perhaps the floor, going by eye contact.

“Look, do you wanna or not?”

“I always do.”

“Then go get it. I’m waiting here.” Naruto leans on the wall, staring at the ceiling as he awaits compliance.

Gaara does not complain. The search will give him an opportunity to review the list one more time.

***

“I guess it’s simple, right?”

“Is it ever anything else with you?”

“Okay, fine, you earned yourself a _lengthy_ explanation.”

Gaara would groan, but he can already foresee it going badly for him—an admonishment to save that for later, or something else to knock him over again, on the floor this time. He opts to roll his eyes instead. Naruto is excellent at diplomacy, because he ignores it.

“So you’ve got this thing in your hands, right? Put it behind your back, maybe, then it’ll be harder for me to get to.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Gaara folds four fingers over the steel plate in the center, letting the fabric trail down from either side. It would be a tactical error to have it near both hands while they’re doing this, so he holds it in just one.

“And I have—where’s your clock?— _three_ minutes now to take it from you.”

“I can’t have bruises that my clothes don’t cover.”

“That’s the beauty of the deal! I can’t use violence. Not even chakra.”

“If you can’t use force, then how are you—”

Before he can finish, Gaara has his answer.

He was wrong. Naruto _is_ using force, capturing Gaara’s face in his hands and demanding a ransom. Before he can think, Gaara has given it, but Naruto only ever wants more and _more_ and _oh **yesplease** more—_

The voice in Gaara’s head has escaped out of his mouth, into Naruto’s. He didn’t know it was capable of such shameless begging.

But Naruto—oh, Naruto isn’t completely diabolical after all, because he doesn’t tease. He doesn’t break away just so he can raise his eyebrows and ask if Gaara can repeat that. He _listens_ , and Gaara does get more, so much more, until he can barely even keep up—

He is so overtaken by the taste of blood, his or Naruto’s or _both mingled wouldn’t that be heaven_ , that he doesn’t register the fingertips tracing down his arm until it’s too late.

The headband is ever-so-lovingly pried out of his fist, and Gaara finds himself disappointed. The kiss is over. No—no, that’s not supposed to be why, that’s not how this started, he made a terrible mistake and here he is on his back.

Naruto has pushed him down, pinning him with his free hand over Gaara’s heart, a leg slung off-center over his thigh. What in the _hell_ does he think he’s doing with his knee? It’s wedged between . . . _between_ . . .

“You’re doing this wrong.”

“No, I’ve got you _just_ right.”

The slightest pressure and Gaara has no words to disagree.

Naruto doesn’t go further. Gaara has a chance to recover, enough to ramble off a diversion. “You missed your calling. Be a pickpocket—dazzle all the rich lords’ wives with a kiss—get rich in a d _aaay_ —”

You could photograph that smile and have no idea what’s going on in the rest of the frame, never guess how carefully and _deliberately_ Naruto is pushing his knee up. “You’re trying to distract me. That’s cute.”

It’s not even condescending. Warmth rushes in under Naruto’s hand at the word, stopping the attempt in its tracks.

“You didn’t have to stop talking. Go on. I’m just taking your shirt off.”

“You’re _wh_ —”

Gaara gets stuck on that syllable, gasping out a repetition every few seconds as he tries to remember where he was going with it. Every time he gets close—maybe _why_?—something rips it away.

As Naruto finishes up the knots, Gaara gains confidence and clarity enough to warble out a “ _what_ now?”

“Well, I’m done with the setup, so I guess I should tell you ‘ _what_ now.’

“You promised me you’d be finding and _using_ all of my weak spots, didn’t you? And since right now you’re—let’s go with _incapacitated_ , that’s a word you like—

“Maybe _I_ should take the opportunity to show you how it’s done.”

“Oh hell.” There is no other way to respond to the look on Naruto’s face. When he’s all the way past a grin to a _smirk_ , there is simply no going back.

“Don’t worry. It’s gonna feel a whole lot better than that.”

That’s exactly what has Gaara worried.

***

There was no cause to be worried. There was cause to be _terrified_.

Naruto began by explaining that he’d committed his newly revised list to memory. Then he proceeded to give Gaara the highlights.

“Well, obviously you’re really weak in the knees when it comes to any kind of rough kissing, or we wouldn’t be in this position, would we? And going down from there, there’s your neck.”

Naruto’s eyes traveled downwards with his list. Gaara found himself squirming, wishing more and more fervently that his hands were free. That his shirt was on. That Naruto was blind. That the network of nerves and channels and electricity and chakra roaring under his skin didn’t _lose it_ at even the suggestion of contact. Any one of these would have done.

“All the marks have healed, haven’t they?” Naruto observed, grazing a fingernail over where they had once had been and earning a shiver. “We should do something about that.”

It only gets worse from there. Naruto delivers his plans like an outline, a heading to name the target, followed by bullet-pointed hints at what is to be done with it. By the time he’s finished, clasping his hands together and tilting his head to the side and parting his lips in an ‘o’ as he awaits a response, Gaara is . . .

At an absolute loss for what has been done to him. He didn’t know a state of contradiction like this was medically possible. Arms taut and stretched above his head, legs bent at the knee and trembling. Every centimeter of skin hot and buzzing when he ought to be so cold. Dizzy, barely a linear thought to be found, but with such a _clarity_ that he could count every heartbeat, every breath. If he could only remember how to count past two.

“Any questions?”

Where the list was delivered jovially, almost in a trill, this inquiry is nowhere near that. Soft and dark, still musical, but so new. He breaks up the syllables—‘an-y ques-tions’—like he’s confident that Gaara still can’t speak to offer any, and it pleases him to have _done_ that all on his own.

“No? Okay, that’s good, because I’m getting really tired of talking.”

“I haven’t been talking.” Ironic to point it out, but true.

“And you’re not going to be.”

There are words on the tip of Gaara’s tongue, but those don’t matter. They die once the fingertips prod under his jaw, guiding his chin upwards until his head hits the pillow. Naruto holds him there, and Gaara wonders why. The human neck can’t arch like this for long without discomfort, and he would have to be insane to let Naruto so close to one of his most sensitive— _oh._

The kisses start small and slow, ghosts trailing from the corner of his jaw to the notch of his collarbone—but the pipe doesn’t know that, and so neither does Gaara’s voice. Whenever he has breath enough for any sound beyond a gasp, it forces its way out in what he _absolutely refuses to call_ a moan.

Then there’s a graze and a pinch and Naruto’s teeth have joined in. It’s not the first time, but the new fear is strong enough that he’s able to voice it.

“If you bite an artery and I die, I’m going to be _pi—_ ”

“I know what I’m doing.”

Gaara believes him.

He doesn’t know how long it takes before a thought of how many bruises he must have by now surfaces above the dizziness. Whatever the number, it’s enough, because Naruto has stopped.

No, he hasn’t. He’s relocated.

“What are-!?”

“I want to see what you think of this.”

Where his teeth are poised, Naruto’s ear must be close to Gaara’s heartbeat. He knows very well what Gaara thinks of it so far.

“I don’t think I’m—”

“These are sensitive. I’ll find out just how much. That’s my job.”

“But how would I explain—”

“This is teasing, not torture. It shouldn’t bleed. And if it does, I don’t think your brother and sister are going to instantly find out about the bite mark on your nipple. Unless you have a weirder relationship than I was aware.”

However wry Naruto’s voice, it isn’t funny. Gaara stares at the ceiling, hoping it isn’t any more judgmental than the wall.

“Damn it, Naruto, where do you get these ideas?”

“Are you saying no?”

“No—well, yes, I—do it already!”

“You’re not in a position to make demands.”

Gaara can’t dispute it, because Naruto takes this moment to remind him why.

It’s like being stabbed. Or shot. Only instead of going through skin and muscle and bone, it _snaps_ from his skin to his spine to _lower than that_ and—and Naruto just _killed_ him, just a little bit, and once the blood stops roaring in his ears Gaara hears himself begging to die again.

He doesn’t know how many times he’s been sent to heaven and back before Naruto gets bored. At least he seems to be, because why else would he be going lower, and why is it necessary to kiss him under his navel if he’s not trying to get a response?

“You always jump when I touch you here. Is it because of that time with my seal?”

Gaara is alive again, but he wishes that he wasn’t.

“Or an inferiority complex or something else stupid that makes you think you don’t deserve what’s next. I’m right. Don’t argue.”

Gaara wouldn’t if he could.

“When you tense under me, I want it to be a good thing. So I’m taking off your pants and I’m fixing this. Right now.”

It takes longer than expected to execute this: Gaara’s legs are still shaking, and they get in the way. It doesn’t help when the mattress shifts underneath them, and they’re lifted up, and this is the instant that Gaara breaks.

“I believe you, you’re in charge, I’m fixed, you don’t need to—”

“I don’t need to, but I want to. It’ll be good.”

“My hands are tied, I can’t cover my—”

“Don’t try. And don’t bite your lip, either. That’s my other job.”

“We don’t usually, is this even—”

“It’s just as safe and clean as everything else I’ve ever done. Relax. Are you out of questions? It’s not like I’ll be able to talk.”

“Don’t remind me, please.”

“That’s true. You’ll remember this anyway.”

“That wasn’t what I me _ahh_ -!”

If Naruto keeps this up, Gaara is sure that he really will die. Of shame, of an inferiority complex, of something else stupid—or simply because he can’t take much of this before everything else breaks. He shuts his eyes tight, because he is sure that even the walls and ceiling must be judging him.

He was told not to bite his lip, but he can’t help it. Even tasting blood again, he can still hear himself, whimpering. He just has to— _withstand_ this, somehow, without all the noise, even though every _stab wound_ is traveling _up_ his spine too, demanding to burst out of his throat—

When everything vanishes and he is untouched, sound is forced out through pure anguish.

“What, no, why’d you, I wasn’t, you can’t—”

“I can do whatever I want. Besides, you don’t enjoy this, do you?”

“ _Naruto please God I need_ —”

“I need to brush my teeth,” Naruto decides as he stands. “I’ll untie you once I’m done, ‘kay?”

Naruto promised this wouldn’t be torture. He doesn’t mean it. He can’t be serious.

“My toothbrush is the orange one with the cute little baby fox cover, isn’t it? Really sweet of you to buy this, by the way. I don’t have to pack an overnight bag anymore. Thanks.”

He’s serious.

“Mind if I steal your toothpaste?”

Gaara is too stunned for an answer. Naruto must have assumed that he in fact did not mind, because running water is the newest addition to his torment.

The friction of bristles on Naruto’s teeth, Naruto’s teeth that were on Gaara’s skin, Naruto’s teeth that have touched Naruto’s tongue, Naruto’s tongue that was in Gaara’s—this is no longer a feeling of torment.

This is fury.

The water is shut off, and Naruto returns. Gaara can see him out of the corner of his eye. Miraculously, he has undressed for his dental hygiene. Gaara concentrates on what is above the neckline.

“Are you . . . advertising that toothpaste brand?”

“You already figured out how to talk, huh?” Naruto appears genuinely surprised, for about half a second. “That’s adorable. Let’s hear it.”

“Because if—if you’re not—” It takes Gaara a moment to recall where he was going with this. “What’s your excuse for that smile, jackass?”

“Already talking _and_ a brand-new word? You’re a fast learner!”

“If you don’t wipe that stupid smirk off your face and get over here _right now_ then I’ll—”

“You’ll ‘ _what_ now?’”

“You don’t get to mock me! You said—you said you’d untie me!”

“But this little talk is so much fun.”

“Not for me!”

“I’m also just a _tiny_ bit worried that you’ll strangle me or castrate me or both if I give you the chance.”

Gaara would be lying if he disagreed, and he’s not in the mood to say anything that isn’t contrary, so he drops his ear to one side and _glares_ in Naruto’s direction. This is the look that has unlocked bathroom doors, the look that can still make trained shinobi break down sobbing, the look that will hopefully get Uzumaki Naruto on top of him right this second.

When Naruto relents, he is chuckling. Not a full-bodied laugh, but definitely not just snickering under his breath either. It takes all of Gaara’s self-control not to aim a kick in his direction as Naruto joins him again on the mattress.

“I’m not doing this because you told me to, ya know,” Naruto warns.

Gaara nods quickly, fury forgotten. Whatever it takes.

“I’m doing this because I want you to feel good. Because I can’t resist that precious, grumpy face. Because I’m a nice guy. And if you roll your eyes at me _one more time_ , I will _leave_ you like this _all night_ , got it?”

Gaara believes him. If he wasn’t so afraid to miss something—if he wasn’t transfixed, as always, by the blue eyes locked on his—he would close his eyes now. Just to be sure.

Naruto is not cruel. No further words are spoken but sweet nothings and gentle murmurs and soft apologies.

Gaara is given every last thing he needs, except for one.

**Author's Note:**

> This was--  
> Nothing but a giant hot mess tbh.  
> I wanted to see how far I was capable of going when it came to describing sexytimes. And the answer: not very damn far. At least it feels that way when I compare it to some of the other stuff I've seen on the Archive. I don't know, let me know if you think I should bump it up to an E rating, this is kind of on the brink as far as I can see.  
> I--actually don't have any major notes? This is basically highly intellectual porn with some blink-and-you'll-miss-it angst. But I've written an end note for all of these so far, so I'll just ramble for another thousand characters or so.  
> I justified writing this by telling myself that it explored the complex dynamic. Hopefully that actually happened. This fic is basically all about how this relationship has started to revolve around sex, and Gaara finds himself getting caught up in that (see basically the entire beginning), but something's still missing.  
> As I touched upon in a reply to a comment one of you left, I feel that Gaara would have gained a lot of confidence in talking to Naruto over email. He's an introvert, and very shy, and obviously sensitive to touch, so the screen would protect him in a way, making him feel like he could take charge a little. But then he actually meets Naruto face-to-face and all that falls apart in five seconds flat.  
> Poor baby. At least he seemed to have a good time either way.


End file.
